Page 93 of Something’s Brewing

She nodded, drawing in a slow breath. You’ve presented in front of committees before, she reminded herself, and straightened her stance.

At the front of the chamber, Mayor Morty Benson shuffled papers with unnecessary force. His smile looked pasted on. His eyes flicked repeatedly toward the clock.

Nick stood off to the side in uniform, arms loosely folded, watchful. When Madison met his gaze, he gave one small nod.

She was ready; tonight, people would finally know the truth.

Elsie rose from her chair and squeezed Madison’s hand. “Truth has a way of finding daylight,” she whispered.

Madison took her place at the speaker’s table. Garrett sat beside her, his knee brushing hers. Under the table, his hand found her leg and stayed there—warm and grounding.

The gavel struck, and routine business moved quickly.

The mayor cleared his throat. “Given the size of tonight’s audience and the lateness of the hour, I recommend we adjourn and⁠—”

“I object.” Nate Bishop said into the microphone, his voice ringing with the confidence of a man who had spent his life selling nails and two-by-fours to half the town. “Ms. Mitchell is on the agenda. Folks came to hear her.”

Murmurs of agreement rolled through the room.

“I second,” said Councilwoman Briggs.

“All in favor?”

Hands lifted across the dais.

The mayor’s hand rose alone in opposition.

“The motion carries,” Briggs said. “Ms. Mitchell, you may begin.”

The room went still.

Madison stood. She carried her folder to the microphone, months of work pressed against her ribs like a second heartbeat, and set it down carefully, looking out at the faces watching her.

“My name is Madison Mitchell,” she said. “I’m here tonight because I believe the people of Deer Creek Falls deserve transparency.”

Her voice was steady and clear. This was a joint investigation, but they’d elected Madison to present the evidence since she was the outsider and a former investigator. Nick, Elsie, and the business owners thought it best.

“I began reviewing business inspection reports after several local owners approached me with concerns,” she said. “At first the discrepancies seemed random. Missed signatures. Incomplete documentation. Delayed approvals.”

She lifted the first sheet. “But when I compared inspection outcomes to campaign finance disclosures, a pattern emerged.”

The room’s occupants leaned in.

“In the past eighteen months,” Madison went on, “fourteen businesses who donated to Mayor Benson’s reelection campaign passed inspections on the first review. Many of those inspections lasted less than ten minutes, according to time-stamped digital logs.”

A murmur rippled across the crowd.

“Meanwhile,” she continued, turning a page, “nine businesses, who either declined to donate or questioned new permit fees, received repeat violation notices. Some were cited for issues that had already been corrected. Others were given less than forty-eight hours to comply before facing closure.”

She held up another document.

“This is an invoice from North Ridge Compliance Services, the company contracted by the city to perform those inspections. The owner of that company is Mr. Daniel Benson, the mayor’s first cousin.”

Mayor Benson’s chair scraped loudly across the floor as he stood. “This is outrageous,” he snapped. “You’re misinterpreting routine procedure.”

Madison didn’t raise her voice. She gave the mayor an easy smile that clearly pissed him off. Nick moved in closer to the mayor.

“Sit down, Morty,” Elsie said.